Honorable Men
by allthingsholy
Summary: We knew this thing was bound to break. CJToby
1. Walking Away

Title: Honorable Men  
Author: All Things Holy  
Rating: PG  
Pairing: CJ/Toby, Toby's POV  
Email: fox_e_girl_7@hotmail.com, feedback is better than ice cream  
Disclaimer: Oh, you must be joking.  
Summary: "I won't be this woman you keep coming back to, Toby."  
Author's Note: My CJ & Toby are defined by Ellen M., Marguerite, August, International Princess, AJ, Not Jenny, and especially Luna. "They're always turning away from each other" mostly belongs to Amerella and "Another Feminist". Anything that resembles good writing is purely coincidental.  
  
  
"Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,   
& Brutus is an honorable man."  
-Julius Caesar  
He'd made decisions in his life, decisions that defined where he'd come to, that changed the course of his existence. He'd found that they were necessary, the taking up and leaving behind, the turning towards and away from. And he thought, not for the first time, that they were always turning away from each other. He'd made decisions in his life, they were inevitable, and in his own opinion, more often than not, he got it wrong. He could feel this wrong move like he could feel March 15, 1974, the day Peter Bryant wrapped Toby's car around a tree. This day felt like October 9, 1994, his wedding day. This was the day they turned from each other and finally started walking away.  
  
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He'd grown up with a mostly absent father, he knew what that was. He refused to let his children grow up and hate him. So he turned toward Andy and made another decision, the honorable thing to do.  
  
"You completely ruined my Christmas wedding thing, Andrea. I was thinking lights, snow...It would've been festive, and...something." They sat opposite each other in a booth at McKenzie's and he couldn't keep himself from counting all the ways she wasn't like CJ. He couldn't help but hold it against her that she didn't sit on the same side of the booth, with too little elbow room and too little eye contact, like CJ would've. He'd done it since he'd met Andy, counted all the ways he found her lacking.  
  
"You're Jewish, Toby, and a chupah with Christmas lights?" Andy bit into her sandwich, eyes meeting his, always challenging. Like there could even be a winner between them, like they could ever do anything but lose.   
  
"Yeah," he said. And her hair was 3 shades too red and she was 4 inches too short.  
  
"This isn't gonna be this conversation, Toby. I've told you --"  
  
"These kids deserve a father." And nothing in his voice was forgiving.  
  
Her voice softened a little. "And they've got one, Toby." Andy looked down, knowing that there should be ground to give on either side, but there wasn't and she felt like she should be apologizing for something. But she refused to figure out what. "I don't not love you, Toby." She met his eyes. "But this didn't work the first time and..."  
  
"Andy, you know that --"  
  
"I'm only 5'7", you know." She dropped her gaze again.  
  
"The hell? Andy --"  
  
"You like tall women." And it was said into her napkin, eyes down. Not quite an accusation, but still biting in all the same ways she'd always held against him.  
  
"Yeah," he said, tossing money on the table and standing up. "I just, you know..." And he turned and walked away.  
  
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"You know, what I don't get is, you're 6 feet tall and there's a chair, like, right there." CJ lifted her head. She was on the floor surrounded by briefing books, jacket off, blouse mostly undone, shoes strewn under the couch, hair held up with a pencil.  
  
"Yes, I know." She looked up at him. She so rarely did. "But, I figured, you know, the floor was just right here." She looked worn, tired, and used, like she hadn't slept in 3 days. And maybe she hadn't. And they just looked around each other, long pauses filled with 20 years of history. It was new, but it was the way it had always been. "Is there...I mean, do you need something?"  
  
He just stood in her doorway, standing there with his hands in his pockets. He was always standing in her doorway, to her office, her apartment, her bedroom. Always on the periphery.  
  
"No, I was just...you know," and he tucked his chin down, shuffling from foot to foot. His face was an apology these days, and he couldn't look her in the eye. He edged into her office, moving towards the couch. He sat with his hands clasped between his knees. Reverent. "I was just...Are you going to be home tonight?"  
  
She paused, frozen, like he'd caught her off guard. As if she wasn't expecting it. "I thought we weren't doing that anymore." Her back was to him, so he couldn't read her face. He would've seen her eyes closed, her face looking pained.  
  
"We're not, I just --"  
  
"How was lunch with Andy?" And her hands were busy again.  
  
"CJ, this isn't --"  
  
"Toby, I'm not...Just, how was lunch?" With her face still away from him.  
  
"It was...uneventful." His hands were rubbing his beard, elbows on knees. Apologetic. "We're not getting back together, CJ. This isn't --"  
  
And she turned suddenly, her eyes on him all force and accusation and no apologies. "I won't be this woman you keep coming back to, Toby." And they held it like that, just them and the room and the sounds of the office outside. With all the things they'd ever said between them.   
  
They were still just sitting there, staring, when Carol peered around the door frame. "CJ?"  
  
"Yeah." Eyes on Toby, always.  
  
"Your 2 o'clock in the Roosevelt Room." Carol's glance darting back and forth. They held each other's gaze, challenging, because unlike Andy, there could be a winner.  
  
"She'll be right there," and Toby was looking at Carol's back as she walked to her desk. CJ's head fell, her back once again to Toby. Hiding, drawing away.  
  
He stood to leave. "I wouldn't have, you know...I wouldn't have asked you to be." She looked up at him, again in her doorway. Always heading out, heading in, heading any way but forward. "To be that woman, I mean...You're not..." And he was gone.  
  
Always walking again. 


	2. Visible Bruises

Notes and things: Part 1  
There are so many ways to leave bruises, she thinks to herself as she watches him go. It's this sight she's most comfortable with, his retreating form. And she hates that it always kills her when he just walks away without looking back because, she thinks, she's never been that strong.  
  
There's hardly been a year since 1983 that they didn't leave each other in. She thinks to herself "Always in August and always in the rain" but it sounds too much like bad poetry so she pushes it away. He's her dirty secret, she's his silent shame. And she doesn't know how long this thing, always unstable, will be able to last.  
  
She goes to her meeting, reporters who want sit-downs with the President and she hates that her first thought is "So what's in it for me?" It's an unavoidable byproduct of working in the West Wing, learning to multitask. She can carry on a conversation, memorize the names of 7 scientists and write a memo on the major economic exports of Belgium all at the same time. So right now, when Andrews and Morganstern are hassling her about "freedom of the press" and "access", she thinks about Toby's eyes and the way they didn't see though her. Most days she doesn't feel tangible, she feels like a smoke screen for this administration. Keeping it inside, letting it through, but never really being there. And that's why she envies Josh and Toby and now Will. They effect change, she just reports it.  
  
But this afternoon, Toby looked at her and saw her and he'd been the first to look away. He gave into her but it felt like it was guilt and conscience that made him shift his gaze.  
  
But she kept coming back to the fact that he'd looked right at her. He hadn't touched her, hadn't passed his hands over her. As if he knew this time she'd shatter.  
  
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Head down at her desk, reading a briefing book on something or other. A knock on her door and head raised, eyes averted, expecting Toby. Disappointed when it's Leo.  
  
"Yeah?" and her voice is even and calm. Practiced, rehearsed. But she doesn't know what she's trying to protect herself from this time.  
  
"Umm...It's 10:30 and you've seemed, you know, these past couple days and I thought maybe you'd be on your way home." And here was Leo, this man made of leather who was still so fragile. Always taking it on himself, holding everything together even when he was falling apart. He's lived so hard and so long, she thinks, what right do I have to unravel?  
  
"I'm on my way out, Leo." His doubting look and she's defensive. "I swear. I'm heading out now, maybe stop by Michael's, wind down, meet a nice man who'll buy me drink and take me home..."  
  
"Is it my face?" CJ gives him a look, a what-the-hell? kind of look that she's perfected. "Everyone just volunteers all kinds of information and I just don't wanna know..." Words said while he walks away. Everyone's always walking away.  
  
And she feels like she owes this man who's carried so much and gotten so little, who never complains. So she packs her bag and heads to Michael's. And it takes all she can muster not to stop by Toby's office on her way out.  
  
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She's sitting at the bar, sipping Glenlivet because she can't stand the taste or anything about herself right now. And she doesn't know when she became one of those women she despises, the kind who stay with men that bruise and beat. And she thinks to herself "At least his bruises don't show" as if that justifies it. And she hates that he's never laid an angry hand on her.  
  
So she goes home with the first man whose eyes look at her, actually look at her, without promising something permanent.  
  
So when Toby stops by Leo's office on his way out, Leo doesn't hesitate to send Toby to check up on CJ. She's a woman and they don't exactly hold it against her but she never can really tell.  
  
And she's walking to a cab, strange hand at her back. Just as she puts her first foot in, she looks up and Toby's standing there watching her. She can't quite stop herself from flinching. The man she's with looks at Toby and looks at her watching Toby. And it's backwards now, his face is stone and hers is all apology. "We knew this thing was bound to break" she thinks, stepping in. The strange man gets in the cab and shuts the door. She knows she'll stay with him a few hours and leave when she thinks he's finally fallen asleep.  
  
And this time, she's leaving him, and as the cab's pulling away, she looks back.  
  
She knew she would. 


End file.
